e again there
was a difficulty, for Mr M'Rea could only have come from purgatory--and
who would have let him out?

"Is there niver a Protestant saint?" said Mick.

"Not a one but King William," said Jane.

"An' he's the very ould boy," Mick shouted, and upstairs they ran to
search for suitable clothes. Jane begged to be King William; but by
the time she was dressed it was dark, and she was afraid to go alone,
so Mick and Patsy went with her.

Honeybird was sent downstairs to the kitchen to wait with Fly till they
came back, and if Lull asked where they were she was not to tell. When
they dropped out of the dressing-room window into the garden the rain
was over. The wind now chased the clouds in wild shapes across the
sky, now piled them up to hide the moon. The children crept along the
road, terrified that they might meet Sandy M'Glander, the ghost with
the wooden leg, or see Raw Head and Bloody Bones ride by on his black
horse. When they reached Mrs M'Rea's cottage all was in darkness, but
they could hear through the door the crying that had frightened Fly.

"Hide quick yous two," said Jane; "I'm goin' to knock."

There was a yell of terror from inside.

"It's all right, Mrs M'Rea," said Jane; "come out, I want to speak to
ye."

"Who are ye?" said Mrs M'Rea.

"Sure, I'm King William, of Glorious, Pious, an' Immortal memory, come
to save ye from the divil."

They heard Mrs M'Rea fumbling with the latch, and then the door opened.
Jane stood up straight, and, as luck would have it, the clouds parted,
and the moon shone bright on King William in an old hunting-coat
stuffed out with pillows, a pair of white-frilled knickerbockers, and a
top hat with a peacock's feather in it.

"God help us," said Mrs M'Rea, "but the quare things do happen."

"Ay; an' quarer things will happen if yer don't give over drinkin', Mrs
M'Rea," said King William. "Fine goin's-on these are when dacent
people can't rest in heaven for the likes a' you and yer vagaries."

"It's Himself," said Mrs M'Rea, and got down on her knees.

"If it hadn't been for me meeting the divil this evenin' ye'd have been
in hell by this time; but sez I to him, sez I: 'Give her another
chance,' sez I."

"God save us," sobbed Mrs M'Rea.

"An' sez he: 'No.' Do ye hear what I'm sayin', Mrs M'Rea? Sez he:
'No; the black-mouthed Protestant, she cursed the Pope, and waved an
or'nge scarf, on Father's Ryan's dourstep,' sez he."

"Whist!" said a warni